


Right Place, Right Time

by cassiopeia221B



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Freebatch - Freeform, Hotel Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Break Up, RPF, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopeia221B/pseuds/cassiopeia221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in 2016.<br/>Benedict and Martin are about to attend SDCC. They share a hotel room. They share a bed. What could possibly happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Place, Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> You know the deal. This work is a work of fiction. It's not meant to represent the reality, nor do I insist or believe that the events depicted in the story might happen in the near future. I am sincerely sorry anyway.

“I can‘t believe you've managed to mess up our reservation,“ Ben splutters, stomping down the corridor with a disgruntled expression on his face. Martin throws him an annoyed glance, he had to listen to Ben’s grumbling ever since the moment they'd left the lobby but didn’t bother to react until they reached the third floor.

“Me? You think it’s  _my_  fault?“ he growls, struggling to insert his key card into the lock on the door of their hotel room.

“Well, it’s  _you_  who were supposed to take care of this,“ Ben reminds him, putting extra effort into sounding as reproachful as manageable.

“I’ve booked a room with two  _separate_  beds, just as you asked me,“ Martin laments. “I am not the one who knows no difference between a double room and a twin room.“

“ _Excuses_ ,“ Ben rolls his eyes, but once the door flies open and they finally enter the room he suddenly forgets why even he’s been whining in the first place. It’s certainly not the kind of luxury Ben is used to but he could hardly ever be so shallow to mind. As soon as they step inside, he immediately has to admit that despite the fact that it is not the room they were supposed to get, it appears to be a pleasant, cosy place and so he rather bites his tongue before letting out another bitter remark.

“Quite nice,“ he mutters instead, pacing around for a short moment before he heads directly toward the bedroom. Martin follows him, expecting to hear a thousand or two complaints about the size of their bed, but once he reaches him, he finds the man standing idly in the middle of the room, no words leaving his throat.

“Well then,“ Martin says, casually leaning against the door frame. “So  _this_  is the little nest we have to share from now on,“ he chuckles, his arms crossed over his chest and a flirtatious smirk upon his lips. Just one simple such a grin and the entire room all but engulfed in fire at sudden. Ben’s chest aches from the way his heart is hammering with such a force against his ribs. He can see the two of them vividly, it’s like a hallucination unfolding itself right before his eyes – him and Martin sharing a bed, impossible becoming a probability. Things could go either terribly wrong or pleasantly well, yet both of the scenarios sound equally terrifying. Ben is aware of that nothing intimate should happen between them, however intense the need to be with each other is. It could screw both of their lives forever.

Ben purses his lips, eyes fixed upon the neatly made up bed. If he stared at Martin for another whole second he could as well faint. “One of us can sleep on the floor, you know,“ he points out, shyly, swallowing hard without even glancing at Martin.

“You certainly may, if you want to,“ Martin quips, approaching Ben. “Come on, don’t tell me you’d mind sleeping next to me,“ he smirks once again and once again it’s a devastatingly arousing sight. He playfully pinches Ben’s arm but the man doesn’t seem to be amused. The idea of the two of them sharing a bed for the three forthcoming nights sounds more than a tad alluring, Ben has to admit, but in the same time he’s very well aware of the differences between what’s meant to be acceptable and what he simply yearns for. If they’re going to sleep next to each other it’s going to take a lot of effort to not step over the boundaries they shouldn’t, but after a moment of thoughtful consideration Ben decides to take the risk anyway.

“I didn’t say I’d mind,“ he shakes his head at last, risking a glance at Martin who rolls his eyes a little but this time he seems to be ready to make a compromise if it’s necessary.

“Look, Ben, if it  _truly_  makes you uncomfortable-“

“No,“ Ben insists. “It’s just… a little awkward, to be honest.“

“Why? Aren’t we’re supposed to be _just_   _friends_?“ Martin tugs his eyebrows, emphasizing the last two words.

“Precisely,“ Ben replies, nervously fiddling with his fingers. “We’re  _supposed_  to be, but we’re not, Martin. We’ve never been, you and I both know that and there’s no way we should let-“

Ben’s voice halts, he curses under his breath once realising he said all that out loud. Martin, however doesn’t seem to be willing to discuss the topic, not yet at least.

“Come on, Ben, we’re two grown up, reasonable adults, you don’t have to be concerned,“ he says instead, smirk on his lips dissolving into a fond, understanding smile.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,“ Ben sighs, half in relief but his mind has not been put at ease. “I am sure it’s going to be… fine,“ he fibs, flashing Martin a crooked smile.

“Oh, it’s going to be more than just fine, trust me,“ Martin grins, tossing his bag over the bed so he can unpack his stuff.

They both spend the next couple of minutes circling around each other, shuffling from one place to another, folding their clothes into drawers, without uttering any words. Ben, however, can’t stop pondering about the fact that they are about to finally spend some time by themselves after months of avoiding each other and years of desperate attempts to label their relationship properly, years of pining and asking questions they didn't recieve answers for just yet. He tried to at least pretend in front of Martin but his assurances didn’t soothe his anxiety at all. He’s aware of that sharing a bed under the circumstances they are currently living might as well completely ruin their relationship, chances are they might even grow distant again. And that’s certainly not what Ben desires to happen, it took them too long to fix what’s been broken. But it’s been  _him_  who agreed so now it’s too late to be taking a cowardly step back.

Martin is not filling his mind with such worrying thoughts. Once he’s done unpacking his clothes he sinks down on the bed with a sigh, carefully watching Ben who seems to be purposefully wasting time being unnecessarily meticulous.

“Are you done yet?“ he asks, a hint of a smile on his lips. He notices that Ben seems to be still buried in somewhat a deep thought.

“Do you have anything against nicely folded clothes?“ Ben retorts, quite reluctantly shutting the wardrobe door.

“No. By now you should know that nicely folded clothes are in fact a  _big_  turn on for me,“ Martin sniggers, mock-seriously picking out each crucial word.

“How would  _I_  know what turns you on?“ Ben teases but immediately regrets this choice because Martin’s reaction comes off as knee-weakening. He darts his tongue out, licking his lower lip slowly, while his eyes, full of hunger and longing are as equally languidly gliding over Ben’s body. This is not going to be easy, Martin doesn’t seem to be prepared to turn down the charm, not at all.

Ben opens his mouth but words appear to be stuck in his throat. He feels exposed, there’s no doubt in his mind that Martin is mentally undressing him in this very moment, he can hardly think of a proper way to react however. Martin might be as well taking the piss out of him and whatever Ben says, he’s sure he’s going to embarrass himself in the worst way imaginable. It would be a shame if he took the bait without knowing if Martin’s simply joking or not.

“I think you know  _exactly_  what turns me on,“ Martin purrs, his voice husky and set so low that Ben has to choke back a whimper.

“I’d rather not play this game at the moment, Martin,“ he replies, his lips tugged in a half-smile despite his voice is shaking. This is definitely not a direction they should be aiming for, especially not after the conversation they had barely five minutes earlier.

“Fine, as you wish, we don’t have to talk,“ Martin sighs, unable to hide a tone of slight disappointment in his voice. “But what are we supposed to do then?“

“I don’t know, we’re free until the evening,“ Ben shrugs.

“Well, in that case, what about a lunch? We can take a little walk around, you know.“

“Actually… I don’t feel like leaving this room unless it’s necessary,“ Ben shakes his head. “Don’t forget… paps are following me  _everywhere_ , Martin,“ he adds.

“Oh, you think they still care,“ Martin snorts but Ben doesn’t smile in return. He steps toward the window instead, peeking from behind the curtains as if trying to check if the streets are empty.

“Ben, look,“ Martin pipes up after a couple of seconds of trying to figure out why is Ben behaving so strange all of a sudden,“ I don’t mean to distract you from whatever the fuck you’re doing but-“

“What do you think I am doing?“ Ben scowls. “I am just making sure no one’s been following us,“ he explains before closing the curtains once again.

“Oh come on, now you’re being paranoid. It’s been weeks since the divorce. You weren’t the first and definitely not the last couple who broke up. You expect that people are now going to stalk you forever?“

“Who knows,“ Ben sighs sadly. “It’s been a  _scandal_ , Martin. The worst is that you were right and I didn’t listen…“ he says apologetically. “You’re enjoying this, don’t you?“

“Why would I?“ Martin asks, his brow furrowing in disconcert.

“You warned me that marrying someone like Sophie was not going to end up well. I deserved this, didn’t I?“

Martin gulps, unable to find the right words to pronounce. “You-you think I am happy about you being this miserable?“ he frowns, springing up from bed so he can shift closer to Ben.

“Look, I might be an arsehole, but I  _do_ care about you, you idiot.“

“I didn’t say you don’t care,“ Ben protests. “But sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re being serious or not. You know, a couple of malicious comments now and then, flipping me off in public, vague, ambiguous answers to intrusive questions, not picking up my calls-“

“Hang on,“ Martin interjects. “I’ve always been there when you needed me the most. And I always  _will_  be here for you, I promise, Ben. But as you said, you  _didn’t_  listen and I-I’ve lost my patience. I do have to admit I’ve even lost a hope in you for a while. Whenever I tried to reason with you, you turned around and ignored all my advices, remember? Don’t be surprised that I was upset with you. I was  _pissed off_ , ‘cause none of that shit had to happen, only if you weren’t so stubborn.“

“I  _know_ ,“ Ben sighs exasperatedly, but he has to admit that Martin is simply right.

“Are you still up for that lunch?“ he asks in a quiet voice, breaking the heavy silence that descended a couple of seconds ago.

“Oh, so you’ve changed your mind at last?“ Martin’s eyebrows rise high. “About a damn time, I am hungry like a wolf.“

“So am I, to be honest and yet… you know, I am still worried, Martin. What if people start asking… I don’t know - personal questions? What if they’ll take thousands of photos? What if they won’t leave us alone? What if-“

“What if I told you that if anything similar happens today I won’t hesitate punching them in faces?“ Martin snickers but Ben has a feeling that this time he’s most likely being serious.

“Come on, you would get into a fight because of  _me_?“ he asks in disbelief.

“First time for everything,“ Martin winks.

Ben can’t fight a shy smile. “Be careful, Martin, your Watson is showing.“ He is sure that his cheeks must be flushed crimson but he doesn’t even care in the moment.

“I see no problem here. Now come, as your  _Watson_  I have to make sure you start eating properly again. You’ve been awfully thin lately.“

Ben has no time to raise another objection. Martin grabs him by his wrist, dragging him through the room until they reach the exit.

It would be an underestimation to simply state that the afternoon Ben spends with Martin is one of the most enjoyable afternoons of his life. Yet, Ben doesn’t dare to point this out in order to not reveal too much about his true feelings for Martin. They have always tend to tease each other, make innuendos and share inside jokes no one else gets, but to engage themselves in a serious conversation was out of the question. And so even though they spend together such a blissful day, neither of them broaches any kind of subject that could spoil the fun they have. Not until the right time comes at least. Ben has almost made such a mistake earlier that day after all, regretting it ever since admitting they are far more than just friends. Thankfully, Martin seemed to act rather obliviously or at least he pretended for the sake of not creating more tension between them.

Much to Ben’s relief, there’s no one even remotely interested in following them down the street nor there are people gathering around them like a flock of vultures desperate to find out the truth about their privacy. They share a nice, quiet lunch in a restaurant located not so far from their hotel; they giggle and laugh together, having eyes for no one but one another. That is to say, Ben can hardly stop blushing since Martin seems to be incapable to stop teasing and batting his lashes at him the entire time and it’s more than difficult to tell if he is seriously flirting with him or simply being his usual self.

They don’t leave until Martin makes sure that Ben eats everything they’d ordered. A couple of fans approaches them once they reach the street again but apart from taking one quick photo all they do is to express their admiration for their two favourite actors.

“Wasn’t that horrible, was it?“ Martin chuckles once they’re left all by themselves again.

“Just for the record, I have no problem taking a photo with kind, respectful fans of mine, Martin,“ Ben utters, putting back on his sunglasses. “What I despise is people taking sneaky pictures of me, pictures I do not  _approve_ of.“

“I understand, loathe those twats too, but what can you do?“ Martin sighs. “All I am saying is that this time you didn’t have to be worried as you can see.“

“Well, I guess you’re right but still… you never know who’s hiding in the shadows.“

Martin rolls his eyes, his voice sounds rougher he intended to. “Even  _if_  there’s someone out there, they have nothing interesting on you. We’re just walking down the street for fuck’s sake.“

“Trust me, those kind of photos are for whatever reason the  _most_  interesting for people to take,“ Ben snorts.

“Oh come on, if we were at least holding hands then  _maybe_  but-you know, actually… we should.“

Ben freezes mid-walking, his jaw hanging open as he stares at Martin in plain shock. “We should do  _what_?“

“Hold hands, obviously,“ Martin grins. “Play a little show, tease them, pretend we are now a couple,“ he adds, smiling suggestively.

“What on earth for?“

“I told you - to taunt people. Can you imagine all those headlines in tomorrow’s magazines?“ Martin looks off into the distance as if he is trying to picture it in his mind.

“If I have to be honest I don’t want to imagine anything like that,“ Ben sulks. “We should simply continue walking, don’t you think?  _Without_  holding hands of course.“

“Don’t tell me you want to go back to the hotel already,“ Martin frowns, knowing what kind of thoughts are flowing through Ben’s head. He’s about to apologise but Ben pipes up first.

“I am saying no such a thing,“ Ben denies but he waveres for a moment before replying. “Let’s just move already, shall we?“

The rest of the day they spend strolling around the city, chatting, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company without ever mentioning anything that has happened in the past few hours. Martin insists on that they should visit a couple of shops together and take a walk through the park even though in the end it’s him who complains that parks here in San Diego are hideous. Besides, the weather’s been dreadfully hot that day and even though it gets noticeably colder in the evening neither of them can concentrate on anything else but a thought of pouring gallons of ice cold water on themselves or better yet – on each other. Unlike Martin, Ben immediately brushes off such downright inappropriate fantasies. Martin however smiles at so delightful thoughts and spends quite a significant time imagining what other things they could do to each other, without showcasing any particular sign of such kind of a joy on outside.

Once they return to the hotel, however, they’re both so tired and drained that not even Martin’s mind functions properly anymore. At first he almost forgets about the event they should be already getting prepared for.

“God, I am  _exhausted_ ,“ Ben breathes out, collapsing down on the bed as soon as he steps into the bedroom. “It’s  _too_  hot, I feel gross. How am I supposed to go to public like this?“ he glances at his watches, frowning. “We’re bound to be there in two hours, Martin.“

“We don’t have to go, you know,“ Martin remarks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Ben is suddenly reminded that Martin is in fact still the same little grumpy man and one has to know him really well to be allowed to see his softer side. “It’s going to be a boring party full of  _annoying_ people anyway.“

Ben doesn’t remember when he did close his eyes but the ceiling he’s seen above him suddenly disappeared and there’s nothing but darkness before his eyes. He hears a voice, he’s vaguely aware of that it belongs to Martin but it takes him a while to reply. “What are you suggesting then?“

“Well, we can stay here, order some food, watch the telly… you know, just the two of us, spending an evening together,“ Martin smiles teasingly, but it’s a tired smile all the same, one Ben didn’t even notice.

“That sounds like a good plan. Except… there’s a catch,“ Ben mumbles, propping himself up on his forearms with slight effort and a heavy audible sigh leaving his throat.

“Is it?“

“Yeah, we are both invited and  _expected_  to arrive tonight. Isn’t it going to be suspicious if neither of us shows up? People are going to spread… rumours.“ Ben runs a hand down his face as if he was trying to keep himself awake.

“You and your  _rumours_ ,“ Martin growls. “Haven’t I proved already that there’s no need to be worried? First of all,  _fuck_ everyone else. I don’t care about  _anything_  they’d say. And you should stop caring too. Listen, I am too tired, so I am not going anywhere. If  _you_  want then-“

“I am just  _saying_ -“ Ben cuts him off, “that if we’re not going to be there tonight, people might  _talk_. About us. We’re both single now, we’ve been seen together having a lunch, for God’s sake, we share a hotel room, Martin. As soon as people find out, it’s going to be quite difficult to convince them that we’re not avoiding going to parties so we can shag throughout the whole night.“

Martin wets his lips, it’s difficult to get the image out of his head now. “I’ve already told you – I don’t give a single fuck,“ he insists.

Ben blinks in astonishment, he’s not sure if he even heard right. “Wait a second, you weren’t joking? You  _really_  wouldn’t mind if people thought that we are now to-together?“ he stutters, grasping for air he’s barely inhaled.

“Of course not,“ Martin smirks, making a noise that sounds like an aborted chuckle.

“B-but, weren’t you the one who, at each given opportunity, laughed at the thought of us being together? You’ve never seemed comfortable with the idea and now you don’t care at all what people think?“

“Yeah, but who is to say I was telling the truth? Besides, that was  _before_. As you’ve rightly pointed out, we’re now both  _single_ , Ben.“ Martin reminds him. “Even if we were together we’d be doing nothing wrong so let people talk, screw them. Who cares at this point… So are you staying or not?“ he asks, rising up from the bed.

Ben seems to be still taken aback but he nods after a moment of consideration. He wouldn’t enjoy going anywhere, leaving Martin behind, alone in the hotel room. Besides, Martin is being once again right as it seems.

“Fine, but you should bear in mind that Karon is going to kill me for this,“ Ben sighs as he lazily crawls off the bed.

“This isn’t exactly professional, Martin.“

“Come on, make an excuse,“ Martin suggests. “Tell her you feel sick so you’re going to stay in your room for tonight, she’ll understand. And that way we can also avoid any  _rumours_  from spreading.“

“Sounds reasonable enough, but what excuse are  _you_  going to make? We can’t both say the same thing,“ Ben remarks.

“Actually, we can,“ Martin objects, triumphal grin on his face.  “We took the same plane, Ben. Ate the same food. You see where I am going with this?“

“But we’ve been already seen outside, isn’t-“

“Trust me, it _will_  work.“

“You’re such a sneaky bastard,“ Ben snorts.

“Oh, you say such nice things, I am so  _flattered_ ,“ Martin chuckles. “Now, you prefer China or Thai for dinner?“ he asks in a tad more serious tone, reaching for the phone in his pocket. “Or should I order us a pizza? I want privacy this time, I reckon you agree that we should stay in our room.“

“Of course I agree,“ Ben smiles, quite relieved that they don’t have to interact with strangers for the rest of the day. They are both already too exhausted anyway.

“You order the food and I call Karon,“ he groans, clearly not very pleased with the task he’s ought to complete.

The conversation doesn’t run as roughly as Ben expected it would. The actor manages to convince his publicist that he feels simply too awful to attend an event he doesn’t even need to be at in the first place. Much to Ben’s relief, Karon doesn’t ask more questions than necessary.

“How did it go?“ Martin enters the room as soon as Ben hangs up.

“Surprisingly easy in fact. What about the dinner?“

“Half an hour till the food arrives,“ Martin replies.

“Great. That might be enough time to take a shower.“

“ _Might_  be?“ Martin raises a brow in amusement, smirk hanging upon his lips. “Jesus, you need  _that_ long?“

“Problem?“

“No, but I hoped I’d manage to take a shower myself, preferably before the takeout arrives. I feel kinda gross too, you know.“

“Don’t worry, this time I’ll be quick,“ Ben promises, already on his way toward the bathroom, but once Martin calls after him, he almost trips over his own feet.

“We could shower together,“ he sniggers from behind Ben’s back. “Just so to save the time and water, you know,“ he adds, his voice drooping unfairly low once again. Ben can hear that Martin is stepping closer but he doesn’t dare to turn around to lock their eyes.

“I-I don’t think that’s the best idea,“ he disputes, his voice cracking mid-sentence.

“Why not?“ Martin giggles, circling around Ben so he can face him. Ben is not sure if Martin is simply bantering or if he’s really being so determined to break the ice between them and release the tension that’s been building up between them for years, but he doesn’t dare to ask. After all, it’s been Martin who tried to assure him that he shouldn’t be concerned so Ben hopes that all this is just one of Martin’s odd attempts to fool with him.

“You  _know_  why. We’ve already been through this today. Sharing a  _bed_  is going to be quite problematic enough… Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ Ben doesn’t waver for any longer, he takes two steps across the room, slamming the door behind him with much more force there’s been needed.

He sheds off his clothes as quickly as possible in order to make sure that Martin doesn’t walk in on him at an inappropriate moment. It’s not even that he would mind, but there’s a voice echoing in Ben’s head, reminding him that he definitely should. It doesn’t matter what either of them feels, they simply can’t let this happen even if Martin’s intentions and feelings were even clearer, they can’t get together, they can’t even kiss,  _that_ ’s how wrong it would be. Or that’s what  _Ben_ thinks at least. Once Martin admitted that he doesn’t even care about people suspecting they are a couple, it’s suddenly too real, too close and too possible to happen. He’d basically subtly hinted at the possibility of the two of them getting officially together, and Ben is simply frightened of the impact this step could have on their lives.

It sounds more than just a little terrifying, Ben panics. He would give anything for that he could spend the next thirty years by Martin’s side but in the same time he’s well aware of that the public, the people would never accept them, they would have to spend decades in fear of what kind of a hate they’re going to have to deal with and what’s more - their careers would be most likely ruined for good. Ben wishes he didn’t have to care, nothing in the world should stand between him and Martin, nothing should be of more importance, yet Ben doesn’t feel brave enough to overcome the obstacles he sees in the way.

He finally perceives once realising that the water’s been running for solid ten minutes already, serving no actual purpose since Ben spent the entire time standing there idly, letting his mind wander off without being aware of it. So wasting no more time, he rinses the soap off his body and then proceeds to dry himself, once again being in quite a hurry.

“About a bloody time,“ Martin growls once Ben finally leaves the bathroom. Ben however knows him well enough to recognize the difference between angriness and a simple annoyance, Martin’s just being impatient. Fortunately, he doesn’t notice the gloomy expression on Ben’s face or even if he does, he doesn’t question it. He grabs his towel and a nightwear and without giving Ben a second glance he disappears behind the door.

As the sound of running water fills the other room again, Ben slouches down into the bed, overwhelmed with all kinds of conflicting thought and emotions.  _Martin, Martin, Martin,_  a chant resonating in his mind, Ben couldn’t concentrate on anything else even if he tried. He glares at the empty spot beside him on the mattress, spot Martin is soon going to occupy. Just a couple of minutes is parting them from sharing this space, couple of minutes from the moment that could change everything if Ben was so foolish to let it happen.  _No_ , nothing can happen between them, that he is certain of. However strong the temptation is, however intensively Ben desires to be able to call Martin his partner he simply has to hold back unless he wants to ruin their lives.

Yet unexpected knock on wood snaps Ben out of his miserable cogitative state. He rushes to open the door, surprised to find out that their food has arrived sooner.

“You… aren’t Mr. Freeman,“ the boy at the door remarks, thoroughly scanning Ben from head to toes as if he can’t even believe his eyes.

“Obviously,“ Ben clears his throat, tying up his gown around his waist.  _Splendid,_  Ben thinks, one another person to learn that Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch share a double room and he’s standing there half-naked wearing nothing but pants and a dressing gown.

“How-how much is it?“ There’s not even a need to ask such a question. Ben turns on his heels in an instant only so he can return few seconds later with evidently a much larger amount of money there’s even necessary.

“Sir, that’s-“

“That’s fine, take it,“ Ben demands, tucking the pack into delivery boy’s tiny hand, simultaneously taking the meal boxes from him.

“Are you trying to buy my silence?“ The boy chuckles, mischievous sparks bouncing in his eyes.

Ben’s jaw falls open. “S-silence? No such a thing. I-I-“

“Don’t worry, sir, I don’t care about gossip. Besides, I’ve witnessed far worse in my life,“ the boy laughs. “You wouldn’t believe what nasty things people do-“

“Forgive me for not being interested,“ Ben grunts, but the same moment he realises that he should act more politely. “I am sorry, have a nice evening,“ he fakes a smile, shutting the door as soon as the boy leaves.

He puts the boxes over the table in the bedroom, determined to wait until Martin arrives but it’s not particularly an easy task to accomplish. As soon as Ben can smell the food his stomach reacts immediately, rumbling annoyingly in response to the fact that Ben has not eaten since the noon. Unfortunately, Martin seems to be taken forever and so Ben has no other choice but to desperately oscillate in front of the bathroom door in hopes that Martin is going to finish his evening rituals as soon as possible.

Well, to be fair, he  _has_ one another choice but Ben can be fairly convinced that this idea is one of the worst ideas he’s ever had. Nevertheless, he takes a deep breath so to steel himself before he reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. It’s been safe to assume that Martin is still in the shower, since Ben could hear water roaring loudly but he naturally still hesitated to disturb the other man during such a private moment.

“Martin?“ Ben predicts that Martin can’t hear him because of the water but he feels too embarrassed to raise his voice. So he stays stiffened in place, staring like he was in a trance at the frozen glass behind which is Martin’s frame easily recognisable. Ben feels like a creep all of a sudden but it’s too late to try to simply dart his gaze away. He keeps his eyes fixed upon the blurred silhouette of Martin’s naked body, vaguely being aware of that his mouth is so dry that he can’t even make a sound.

Martin is humming one of his favourite melodies; his voice is so warm and soft that Ben feels like he could melt into a puddle any second. That’s the moment he realises he should probably either leave or try calling Martin’s name one more time but in the end he doesn’t even have to, Martin is obviously already aware of his presence.

“Ben?“

Ben can’t decide if he should pretend he’s never been there or straightforward confess that he’s stalking, none of the choices he has sounds particularly great. “Y-yeah?“ he clears his throat awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?“ Martin’s voice doesn’t sound as mellow anymore, it’s raw and gravelly, yet Ben can recognise a tone of amusement hidden behind the layer of faked annoyance.

“I-I just…the takeout has arrived, you should-you should hurry up if you don’t want it to get cold,“ Ben stutters. Martin turns off the water in an instant, his upper body peeks from behind the adjusting door.

“Too bad,“ he chuckles naughtily. “I thought you were about to join me.“

Ben probably wouldn’t even mind pulling off his gown so he could step into the shower despite having a one just a few minutes earlier, but he rather keeps this notion for himself. He has to remember that it would be an utterly wrong decision to make.

“Ahem-Ben? Can you pass me my towel perhaps?“ Martin asks, still grinning at Ben who didn’t even realise he’s been staring at Martin’s bare wet torso for over half a minute already. “Over there.“

“Y-yeah, sure… here.“ Martin’s lips expand into even a wider grin once his fingers brush over Ben’s. The sight of Ben’s cheeks turning so pink afterwards is simply priceless.

“Thank you and oh-I borrowed your shower soap… if you don’t mind,“ he says once disappearing behind the glass again. Ben is unsure if he should finally leave but Martin doesn’t seem to be bothered with his presence.

“No, no, of course not.“

“I forgot mine and yours smells nice,“ he adds once stepping out of the shower, towel just loosely wrapped around his waist so his hip bones are clearly visible from under the cloth, strands of sloppy gold and silver hairs pointing in every direction and droplets of water still dripping down his tanned body.

Before he’s able to stop himself, Ben groans at the sight he’s not been prepared for.

“You bloody bastard you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?“ he growls, half in umbrage half in utmost desperation.

“Doing what?“ Martin smiles innocently.

“Being…  _sexy_  as fucking hell,“ Ben blurts out, biting his tongue in the aftermath.

Martin guffaws. “I am sorry to tell you but I am not doing this on purpose, Ben, I’ve been  _born_  sexy.“

“Oh, you  _know_  what I mean,“ Ben pouts, storming off the room, blabbing something about ‘ _reasonable adults’_  on his way.

Once Martin enters the bedroom he finds Ben, changed into a cotton shirt and pyjama bottoms, sprawled across the bed, sulking at the telly he’s just turned on.

“Oh come on, don’t be childish, make a room for me,“ he requests before taking the meal boxes from the table and settling down on the bed.

“You want to eat in  _bed_?“ Ben frowns as if they were about to do something illegal.

“Well, if there’s  _anything_  else you want to do in this bed right now-“ Martin sticks out the tongue at the other man whilst opening his box.

“You fucking -so  _I_  am childish?“ Ben snorts, grabbing a pillow so to punch Martin with it.

“Hey, you twat, what was that for?“

“You’re being…  _you_.“

“What? Too sexy?“ Martin quips.

Ben makes a desperate gesture in the air, he might as well give in at this point. “Too sexy, too confident, too sassy, too cheeky too-too bloody  _perfect_ ,“ he sighs in shame, putting as much food into his mouth as he’s capable of consuming at once. Martin doesn’t even pretend to be subtle, the way he is so obscenely putting the plastic fork into his mouth speaks for itself. Not to mention that the noises he’s making are one hundred percent uncalled for.

“Why so frustrated?“ he mewls.

Ben doesn’t reply, he’s making sure his mouth his full enough so he can have an excuse to not speak.

“Oh come on, you want to choke on that food? Chew for fuck’s sake.“

Ben rolls his eyes, swallowing with a little difficulty but after a couple of seconds he manages to retort. “ _Fuck off_ , you’re not my mother.“

“Well, I am not but I could be your da-“

“Don’t you even dare to say it,“ Ben warns him, pointing at him with a plastic fork with a touch of theatricality.

“Oh please, Ben, I am just joking,“ Martin laughs. “Come on then, have a taste of mine…  _food_ , you prick, don’t look at me like that.“ He lifts his hand, passing a piece of meal into Ben’s mouth but Ben wavers a second before accepting the offer. He’s trying to fix his eyes upon the fork in Martin’s hand but Martin’s eyes are naturally much more alluring to look at. Ben is surprised to find out that those usually silver-blue irises appear to be dark black at the moment. It must be because of his pupils, dilated as much as if he was stoned, Ben concludes.

“So?“

“Well, I might as well become a vegetarian after this,“ Ben utters bluntly. “It’s not as bad as I thought.“

“What a shame, that was the last piece,“ Martin sniggers, quite maliciously.

“Thank you for giving up on it because of  _me_.“ Ben is glad they’re not bickering anymore but he is sure it won’t last for very long, even if it’s just a childish game of theirs they could quit anytime they’d please. He grabs the empty boxes and dirty cutlery and throws them into the trash can before crawling back into the bed.

Martin has already settled himself into a comfortable position, with his arms folded behind his head and eyes pinned upon the telly on the wall.

“Oh no, we’re not watching RSPCA,“ Ben protest once he notices that Martin has switched the channel.

“Why not?“

“Because you cry  _every_ time, Martin.“

He sinks down next to the other man, trying to ignore the unfamiliarity of the act. Ben’s heart skips a beat, maybe even two upon realising that they’re finally laying side by side, their eyes locked for a short glimmer of moment. It feels strange, yet so  _right_ , so natural, as if they were meant to be like this from the very beginning.

Martin smiles at Ben, one of those smiles that could fill a darkened room with the brightest light and it’s blinding – Ben can hardly even gather enough control to not curl up to Martin and place his head over Martin’s chest.

It’s a sheer magnetism, pure desire and need and unconditional  _love_  on both sides separated by nothing but an invisible wall they’ve built so many years ago. Ben feels like a small moth, hopelessly drawn to a burning flame that is Martin but Ben is too scared and weak to fly any further to reach him. So they stare at each other without words on their lips for a while, until a few loud noises from television disrupt the moment.

“I told you to change the programme, “ Ben sighs disappointedly. He’d obligingly spend the entire night looking at Martin’s unusually appealing face but he turns his gaze anyway, there’s only so much he can bear at once.

“Sorry,“ Martin apologises, hastily switching between the channels. “Tell me when you see something you’d find interesting.“

Ben can’t help but peer at Martin once again, almost making the mistake of admitting that the most interesting  _something_ he can see in the room is him, but he manages to bite his tongue before making a fool of himself. Martin is, as it seems, being oblivious to the amount of furtive glances Ben flashed him in the past half an hour. Or maybe he’s simply ignoring them on purpose, in the fear of losing inhibitions. There’s barely any space between them after all, their hands being even closer, both twitching with the need to touch.

“We don’t need to watch anything, you know,“ Martin notes after a several minutes of useless pressing of buttons.

“But it’s too early,“ Ben objects. “We need to resist for a couple of more hours.“

Martin chuckles. “Who said anything about going to sleep already? I am not that tired anymore, besides, jet lags have rarely caused me any trouble. I got used to it long ago.“

“So-“ Ben has to take a pause so he doesn’t blurt out anything stupid. “What-what are you suggesting then?“ he asks at last but he doesn’t get an answer in return since Martin apparently stumbled upon something far more engrossing on TV.

Ben doesn’t even have to look. He can hear his own voice coming from above, a moment so embarrassing that he wishes he could simply disappear like a ghost.

“Turn it off, please,“ he requests, glaring at Martin rather than at the TV.

“Why? I’ve never seen Parade’s End,“ Martin giggles, his eyes shining as if he was a kid unwrapping his presents under the Christmas tree.

“You see where this is going,“ Ben snorts in disgust. He’d rather forget about ever filming these sorts of scenes.

“Oh, I see. You and – what was here name? Rebecca? Are about to get off, aren’t you?“ Martin snickers, lifting himself up so he’s now leaning against the headboard.

“Martin, I am serious,“ Ben pleads, shifting closer in his attempt to pluck the remote controller out of Martin’s hands.

“Come on, you git, I don’t want you to see it.“

“Why not?“ Martin frowns, half-amusedly half in confusion. He stretches his hand as high as he is capable of so despite Ben’s much taller he’d have to roll over Martin to reach the controller. Much to Martin’s surprise, he does.

Ben doesn’t even seem to mind nor think properly in the moment, he spits the words out without even considering it beforehand. “I don’t want you to watch me having sex with someone… else.“ He realises the mistake he’s made when it’s already too late. Their faces are merely a few inches apart, their eyes fixed upon each other’s lips as if they were about to devour them, their chests firmly pressed against so they both feel how frantically their hearts beat for one another.

Martin smiles fondly, peering at Ben from under heavy lashes, never leaving his eyes. Not while switching off the TV not while wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist before gently pushing him down on the mattress.

Quiet, broken ‘ _Martin_ ’ escapes Ben’s throat as he allows the other man to crawl on top of him and embrace him in his arms. But he doesn’t protest, he would be a complete fool to spoil the moment.

“Don’t you think it’s finally time to stop beating around the bush?“ Martin’s voice is warm and calming, yet Ben is still afraid of the direction they are heading for. He turns to the side so to avoid Martin’s eyes but Martin frees one of his hands from beneath Ben and tenderly grasps his chin between his thumb and index finger so to keep them face to face.

“Look at me, please.“ Ben’s eyes are full of insecurity hidden behind the layers of the most gorgeous shades of blue Martin has ever seen. The colour of those eyes is the colour of the space, undiscovered, unfathomed, and breathtakingly beautiful. Martin is in awe, he’s never seen them from  _such_  close, it’s like magic in its purest form. Coincidentally enough, Ben thinks the same of Martin’s eyes.

“Can I ask you something, Ben?“ Martin inquiries, tenderly running his thumb over Ben’s flushed cheek. Ben offers nothing but a nod in reply, his throat feels too dry and tight for him to be able to speak just yet.

“Be honest with me – you said you  _know_  we’ve never been just friends so… why don’t you want any of this?“

“Jesus, I  _do_   _want_  this, more than anything, Martin,“ Ben groans.

“Well, but you didn’t seem to be over the moon when you’ve learnt that we have to share a bed. Care to elaborate?“

“I didn’t – I don’t – I – I simply, God,“ Ben has to take a deep breath before he’s able to let out at least one coherent sentence. “Look, I was simply frustrated,  _frightened_  because that’s the problem – we’re not  _just_  friends, we’re so-so drawn to each other in a way neither of us can even explain and sleeping next to one another… well, there was a possibility of crossing a boundary - fuck we’ve already have crossed that line but we can’t – we –we shouldn’t, Martin,“ he sniffs, his eyes fluttering shut once Martin caresses his chin. “I am scared.“

“Why scared?“ Martin frowns bewilderedly, his thumb freezing over Ben’s lower lip. “We’re both single, if we both want this then why it can’t happe-wait, is it because of what people would say? Is that why you don’t want anything to happen between us? Just because  _others_ wouldn’t approve?“

“Obviously,“ Ben answers, his chin trembling as he opens his eyes again. “When you said you don’t care if people think that we are a couple… I was – I was shocked because, Martin, we’re two men, rather famous men on top of that and society doesn’t treat such couples well, do they?“ he sighs sadly. “I’ve realised that maybe you are considering the possibility of giving us a chance and-“

“Well, I am glad you finally noticed,“ Martin grins, but paradoxically it’s rather a sad expression, full of uncertainty that’s emerging upon the surface.

“Martin, come on, you can’t be willing to take this step, it’s a  _huge_  risk,“ Ben laments. “Besides, we don’t even know what exactly it is between us. Is it love? Desire? I mean, I  _do_  know what  _I_  feel, but… you said you’ve never had any feelings for me and now-“

“Are you still talking about that bloody interview I've done almost two years ago already?“ Martin fumes. “Come on, deep inside you  _know_  I’ve fallen for you the first moment you looked into my eyes,“ he utters. “You know it, both of us do, you just admitted it. Just because we couldn’t name it until now, doesn’t mean it’s not real or that we’ve not been aware of it. But was I supposed to publicly admit my feelings for you while still being officially attached to someone else?“

Ben swallows hard, gaze flicking between Martin’s eyes and lips. “No, you’re right,“ he replies quietly, after a moment of hesitation. “I shouldn’t have had any doubt. I am sorry, Martin.“

“Oh, God, you don’t have to apologise… just-just please, let me kiss you already,“ Martin pleads, leaving out hot huffs of breath against Ben’s parted lips.

Ben closes his eyes in response. He’s so overwhelmed with the proximity and the need to finally lock their lips that at the moment he doesn’t even care they’re about to do something seemingly so wrong. The moment Martin brushes his lips against his own it’s like a bolt of electricity striking his body, paralyzing him, engulfing each one of his cells in flames, he wouldn’t be able to hold back even if he wanted.

But then the time slows down at sudden. Small, quiet moan escapes Martin’s throat once Ben starts kissing him back. It’s a tender kiss at first, tender like rose petals dancing gracefully on the water, soft like the honey coloured sunlight filling up the room in the morning. It’s a pure and heart-achingly beautiful first kiss, Martin lovingly cradling Ben’s face, brushing small circles over his cheeks and Ben completely committing himself into that touch, letting Martin to guide him, to lead the path he decided to follow.

Ben has always predicted that Martin must be a remarkable kisser. He often spent hours imagining the feeling, the taste of those enticing lips but none of his fantasies could have ever prepared him for the reality of kissing Martin. Martin is gentle, sweet and caring, holding Ben so carefully as if he was made of fragile glass. He knows when exactly to pull back an inch and tease Ben, playfully tilting his head without brushing their lips, he seems to be able to read Ben like he was an open book and so the kiss is as perfect as it could be, without any need to be overly deep or passionate just yet.

Ben, however, is not alone who feels like soaring in the sky like a fluffy cloud. Martin has been yearning to taste those firm, voluptuous lips for far too long and so once he’s finally received a chance he can’t stop kissing Ben for what feels like eternity already. Ben’s hands are restlessly shuffling up and down Martin’s back, squeezing on his shirt in an attempt to pull the man even closer even though Martin is already lying on top of him.

It’s suddenly too much to bear. Their kiss turns into a mere bumping of lips against each other’s once they fully realise what is happening and their minds are no longer clouded in ecstasy. It’s Martin whose lips start acting on their own, tugging into a wide, joyous smile full of pure happiness and so naturally, it takes just a moment until Ben starts giggling too.

“What’s so funny?“ Martin pinches Ben’s nose, stealing a peck from him.

“I-I can’t believe,“ Ben chuckles, breathing with a mild difficulty. He’s blushing so hard that even the tips of his ears are tinged pink.

“Well, isn’t it worth it?“ Martin asks, his face suddenly oddly serious.

Ben frowns. “What do you mean?“

“Come on, we belong together, we both  _want_  to be together. So why should  _anything_  else matter? Isn’t all this we can have worth the risk? We’re free, we can do anything we please, we need no fucking words of approval.“

“Are you saying we should… come out as if it wasn’t even a big deal?“ Ben’s expression doesn’t change, he still looks unsure of what to think.

“Martin, I-“

Martin folds a finger over Ben’s lips to shush him down. “Listen, I  _want_  you, Benedict. I want to kiss you and love you and do all those soppy romantic things couples do. And I want this every day, for the next fifty years, forever. I told you a million times – I don’t care about people. I am going to protect you from the media and press and paparazzi, we can give up on being actors for all I care. I am not going to lose you, Ben, just because our relationship might not be approved of by public,“ he adds, leaning in for another kiss.

Ben whimpers once Martin pulls back. He’s sure that Martin couldn’t mean seriously at least half of what he’d said but he decides to not argue. “So you-you don’t think we’re doing something wrong?“ he asks instead even though being already aware of the answer.

“Of fucking course not,“ Martin snaps him. “We’re doing the rightest thing in the universe.“ The last couple of words Martin murmurs against the skin of Ben’s neck as he kisses down his exposed throat.

Ben can hardly tame himself once Martin starts sucking on the sensitive skin under his chin. Nothing else matters suddenly, not even the fact that they should be somewhere else in the moment, not the possibility that the press is going to spread rumours about them. Ben decides to not care, not in the moment at least, because something he was so eager for years is finally happening and as Martin already remarked – it’s worth the risk, it must be.

So Ben lets himself be heard, he tucks his hands under the fabric of Martin’s shirt, savouring the feeling of warm skin against the pads of his fingers. He touches Martin everywhere he can reach, he slides his hands up his torso, rakes his nails down across his back and sides, a reward being a pleased groan drawn out of Martin’s throat.

“Jesus, do you have any idea-“ whatever Martin was about to say faded into a growl once Ben grabbed him by his arse and rolled their hips together. Neither of them restrains from moaning out loud, a string of profanities escapes Martin’s mouth but he says no more. He decides to put his mouth to a much better use instead, nipping and licking wet traces down Ben’s neck before he grazes on his skin for a brief moment.

Ben is already seeing all the white stars before his eyes, it would be a blatant lie to say he’s ever felt more aroused. Martin knows precisely what spot to kiss and bite to drive him mad, as if he even wasn’t doing it for the very first time. Ben can perfectly see Martin’s smug face in front of his eyes, he must be immensely enjoying the control he’s got over Ben. Not that Ben minds being controlled like this. He’d beg for more contact but that would only result in Martin teasing him even more so he rather bits his lip, letting Martin to do whatever he pleases.

“Your neck should be illegal,“ Martin giggles, rubbing his bristle cheek against Ben’s oversensitive side of neck. Three days, Ben estimates, that’s how long Martin didn’t shave. His skin is going to look awful, decorated with hickeys and slightly burned but to hell with that, Martin’s tongue exploring every visible patch of Ben’s collar makes it all worth it.

Almost as if he could read Ben’s mind, Martin licks a stripe up his jawline, his lips ghosting over his skin until he reaches Ben’s ear. Ben can’t see but he can very well hear Martin chuckling breathily before he takes Ben’s earlobe between his lips and tenderly suckles, tip of his tongue rubbing beneath the ear.

“G-god this is a torment, Martin,“ Ben gasps, his lips trembling with the need to kiss Martin again. Martin doesn’t offer an answer, nor does he tone it down. He slithers his hand beneath Ben’s shirt and rubs his fingers over Ben’s hard nipple, simultaneously while whispering into his ear in the huskiest, roughest voice that in Ben’s ear sounds exactly like sex itself, voice like melted dark chocolate and warm sunset yet sharp like a knife that could cut him in half.

“We can stop, if you want,“ Martin purrs, grinning into Ben’s skin as he presses a kiss over the temple of his head.

“Christ, I don’t want you to stop, I want more, I-“ Ben is cut short of words once Martin chains their lips in a hungry kiss, a kiss deeper than any previous they’ve shared. He slips his tongue inside of Ben’s mouth, tracing the line of his teeth, exploring, licking, sucking on Ben’s tongue once he pulls back again.

Ben finds himself pulling Martin impossibly closer by gripping the nape of his neck, but he can hardly control his movements, it’s like he’s watching his actions from outside of his body. Once they’re drawn apart, it’s messy, their lips are swollen and crimsoned yet they don’t pull back. It takes only a moment, moment of inhaling each other’s heated breaths and they’re kissing again, dizzied, thirsty, wanting to be even closer.

There’s no purpose in hesitating for any longer. Martin wraps his arms around Ben’s torso, pulling them both up so they end in each other’s embrace, hands crumpling on shirts, fingers rushing through each other’s hairs, each kiss, each contact is simply intoxicating. Ben somehow managed to end in Martin’s lap, in such a flawless position that he barely has to rock his hips forward, their hardening cocks are rubbing through the thin layers of cloths, creating perfect friction.

“Fuck, I want you so much,“ Martin breathes, getting a grip of Ben’s curls and pulling tentatively, just to see the reaction. He’s not disappointed, the moan Ben lets out is positively filthy.

“God, those curls… I am glad you didn’t completely chop your hair this time. You’re mind-blowingly beautiful like this.“

Even under such conditions, Ben blushes like he was a young, inexperienced boy who’s being praised like this for the first time in his life. He smiles in return, immediately rewarding Martin with a kiss over his neck.

“Don’t you think it’s time to get rid of those clothes?“ Martin teases, trying to cover the fact that he’s ticklish. Ben smirks at him, oblivious to the fact. He uses his long dextrous fingers to snatch Martin’s shirt and pull it over his head, repeating the same with his own once Martin is already bare-chested. Martin goes for his lips again at the speed of light, frantically rubbing their naked torsos against each other’s, all while in the middle of sucking on Ben’s plump bottom lip.

Ben is pushed down into the mattress again, his wrists pinned above his head while Martin kisses him senseless, drawing the longest, raspiest moans out of his throat. Ben groans for more contact but Martin leaves his mouth and frees his wrists after a couple of moments, kissing and dipping his tongue into his skin that still smells like coconut because of the soap he’s used. Ben props himself up on his elbows so he can watch Martin as he lazily roams down his body, stroking, kissing and licking his abdomen and lower belly, leaving wet stains of skin behind.

Ben’s hips involuntary buckle up at the sight, he’s so desperate for friction that he almost makes the mistake of sliding his own hand between his thighs to release tension.

“Oh come on, hold on a little while, we don’t need to hurry anywhere,“ Martin licks his lips, a proper way to both seduce and destroy Ben at the same time. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait for too long. Martin, never leaving Ben’s eyes, as if he was a cat watching its prey, presses his mouth against Ben’s crotch, licking and humming around his still clothed cock.

Ben could as well come right then and then, into his pants like a boy, but he can’t let such a thing to happen. But then Martin presses with a tad more force, burying his nose against the fabric and inhaling deeply, smelling Ben through his silk bottoms and that’s enough to completely prevent the cog wheels in Ben’s head from turning. Ben’s brain doesn’t serve its initial purpose anymore. It’s just an empty space filled with nothing but one single picture of Martin hooking his fingers behind the waistband of Ben’s trousers and pulling them swiftly down to his ankles before he licks that ugly damp spot on his pants.

“Jesus, you-oh, fuck,“ Ben hisses. Martin has already begun palming him in such a delicious pace that it’s physically impossible to concentrate on anything else. Ben thinks it can get any better than that but as it turns out, he’s wrong. Martin takes the border of Ben’s ruined pants in between his teeth so he can strip them off, right before he returns back to what he’s been doing before.

Under any other circumstances, Ben would be ashamed of himself but one simple glance from Martin assures him that it’s all fine. One glance and Martin doesn’t even have to say a word – _you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, we’re doing nothing wrong._

He steals himself a couple of kisses from Ben’s lips before he settles himself between his legs and wraps his fingers around the base of Ben’s cock, at first stroking just slowly, achingly slowly, lapping and licking the glans at the same time. Ben wants to look but the sight is simply too much to bear. The way Martin swirls and twists his tongue around the head is mesmerizing. He’s  _hypnotized_  by Martin’s fingers and mouth, creating the best possible friction imaginable. Martin uses his free hand to slide it beneath the underside of Ben’s cock so he can rub and massage his balls, all while licking up and down his shaft, humming and moaning obscenely with his eyes closed in bliss.

He flashes Ben one dirty grin before he swallows around him, rubbing his tongue against the flesh, vigorously sucking Ben’s cock until he’s panting and his mouth is full of bitter pre-come and pulsating heat. It’s definitely not the first time he’s sucking a man off, Ben thinks, but he doesn’t want to spend too much time pondering about it. Just the idea of Martin being with anyone else makes him jealous to the marrow.

Ben didn’t even notice that Martin has pulled out already and he’s crawling back on top of him, pressing his lips against Ben’s even though he’s barely able to draw a breath. Ben frowns, he didn’t expect he was going to have to taste himself that night but he doesn’t dare to complain, Martin gives him no chance anyway. He rolls his hips against his lap, rubbing his clothed cock against Ben’s naked groin, making them both moan loudly and shamelessly.

“Oh fuck, put those pants off already,“ Ben growls but almost as if Martin could read his mind again, he’s already naked and on top of him, wrapping his hand around their erections. Ben whimpers, he immediately covers Martin’s hand with his own and mirrors the movement of his fingers. Their entire world shrinks as they slow down, as if nothing but the two of them existed anymore, as if this moment between them was the only moment of importance.

“God… oh God, Ben, I want to-“

“Yes,  _fuck me_ , that’s all I am waiting for, Martin,“ Ben grunts, arching his back so to be even closer to the other man.

Martin’s eyes blaze with desire, his heart is beating so fast that it must be audible, but he couldn’t care less. “Jesus, Ben… just-just a second, just wait.“ He quickly rolls out of the bed, without offering any further explanation but as soon as he returns Ben comprehends immediately.

“W-where the  _hell_  did you get those from?“ Ben scowls at the package in Martin’s hands. “Do you  _always_  bring lube and condoms along with you when you’re travelling?“ he squints suspiciously.

“ _No_ ,“ Martin laughs, quickly climbing back into the bed before he opens the bottle. “I haven’t had sex in ages if that’s what’s bothering you. I see you’re being jealous, which is flattering but  _no_ , I don’t tend to fuck strangers, don’t worry,“ he assures him, hastily spreading the lotion between his fingers. “We were about to spend a night together, Ben come on, I had to be prepared, you know – just in case. What the hell do you think of me?“

Ben is about to apologise but Martin is already kneeling in front of him, tossing one of Ben’s legs over his waist for a better access.

“Nine months,“ he utters, “that’s how long I’ve been relying solely on my hand and thoughts of you.“

Ben blushes, heat is basically radiating from his cheeks. “M-me? Well, that’s-that’s-oh, God, oh  _fuck_.“ Martin didn’t say a word of warning before he pressed his slicked finger against Ben’s butthole and so the man shivers beneath him, drowning in anticipation.

“Sorry,  _fuck_ , I suppose I should’ve asked you first,“ Martin growls. “Are you-“

“Yes, I  _am_  healthy,“ Ben nods feverishly. “I assume you got checked too, so do me a favour and-yes,  _yes,_ do exactly  _that_ ,“ he moans in pleasure once Martin carefully thrusts his index finger inside him.

“Tell me if it’s going to hurt, okay?“ Ben hums in response, wincing on the bed, trying to fuck himself on that finger but Martin holds him steady by his waist. “Shh, hold on,“ he coos. “You’re too tight.“

Martin doesn’t need to know if Ben’s ever been with a man before, but he doesn’t act as if any of this has been a novelty for him. He complies once Martin reprimands him and doesn’t protest that it’s taking too long so he must be quite experienced. Martin is not interested however, he loathes the idea of Ben being with another man or even woman before.

Once Ben seems to be prepared enough for it, Martin sinks in the second finger, twisting and pressing deeper until Ben’s ready for the third one too.

“Could you finally-oh fuck, I need you-I need you inside of me, Martin.“

Martin yelps instead of offering a response. He swiftly pulls out his fingers and rolls on a condom, with a little difficulty since his hands are shaking but once he’s prepared he pours more lotion onto his fingers and rubs it over his cock while watching Ben who’s desperately fisting the sheets, his chest raising and falling heavily. His hair are tousled, body flushed and sweaty but God, Martin has to admit that he’s never been more irresistible.

“You’re so  _fucking_  gorgeous,“ he rasps, climbing on top of Ben so he can press their lips together. It’s a sloppy kiss - teeth and tongues and sizzling breaths, igniting each other’s mouths on fire.

“Martin, p-please,“ Ben can barely utter any words, not that he needs to beg Martin.

“Just a moment,“ Martin assures him, his voice desperately breathy since he can hardly control himself. He grabs Ben’s legs by his knees, hooking them over his waist before tucking a pillow beneath Ben’s back. Both of them hiss and curse once Martin finally presses the head of his cock against Ben’s tight ring.

“Alright, are you okay?“ Ben nods, just once, his mouth is opened in a silent moan, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he can feel the tip of Martin’s cock already buried inside him.

“Move, Martin, oh fuck, just  _move_ ,“ he pleads, whimpers, tightly squeezing on the sheets. Martin has no reason to not obey. He positions himself so he can lie on top of Ben and press their foreheads together, while still being able to comfortably thrust into him. And once he does, oh, he’s never heard a man moan so loudly.

He’s about to ask once again if it doesn’t hurt but he’s sure that Ben would let him know, so he thrusts deeper without uttering any words, setting on a slow, cautious rhythm. Ben has never been in such a position like this, never with a man that means so much to him. He used to felt vulnerable and insecure, but Martin is surprisingly loving and caring. Ben feels safe in his arms, loved and protected, every last remainder of fear disappears into nothingness, now he knows that Martin was telling the truth. For a split of a moment he feels regret, he hates himself for ever doubting Martin, for ever thinking that them being with each other could be even remotely wrong. Martin was right. They are meant to be together, they’ve always meant to be.

The way Martin is kissing him is agonizingly beautiful– pouring his heart out, proving how much he loves him without having to elaborate with words. Ben feels on the top of the world at the moment. Martin is brilliant in everything he does, his hips are rocking with grace and precise like waves crushing the shore, his lips are a vessel gliding and exploring all over Ben’s face and body, his hands are gentle and tender, touching Ben as if he was the most precious treasure in the world that needs to be protected at all cost.

All of a sudden, Ben is aware of that Martin is smiling against his lips, murmuring words he can’t hear but it’s the most peaceful melody he’s ever heard.

“Martin, I-“

“Shhh, Ben, I know, I know. Let me take care of you,  _love_.“

It’s too much to bear,  _too_  much. Ben has almost confessed his love but now he can’t even open his mouth to let out any other sounds but moans and growls. Martin asks him if he can go faster, but he barely whimpers, his throat is hoarse with emotion, his eyes are welling up. Which is something Martin misunderstands and he immediately slows down to the point he almost stops rocking his hips completely.

“Am I- am I hurting, Ben? God, why didn’t you-“

“No, Jesus, no, Martin,“ Ben shakes his head, pulling Martin down into a deep, lascivious kiss, urging him to move again. “It’s okay, you can go faster,  _please._ “

“Ok-okay,“ Martin pants, already on the verge of reaching the climax. He changes the angle just slightly, just an inch to the side but it’s enough to find the right spot. Ben’s back arches up again, he groans so loudly that the entire hotel must’ve heard that but neither of them could care less.

“God, Martin, there, right  _there_ , more please.“ Ben digs his fingers into the skin of Martin’s back, dragging his nails down his spine, moaning into his shoulder so he could stifle his noises. He feels the heat building up on his skin, his entire body is on fire, hot, burning, shuddering as Martin is keep hitting his prostate with each deep thrust. The room is filled with cacophony of moans, broken, silent gasps and whimpers, sounds of creaking bed and rustling sheets, sloppy sex noises and no coherent words but occasional  _Ben_  and  _Martin_ drawn from each other’s throats.

Martin’s vision is gradually fading black, he’s barely even able to control his hips anymore, so he slows down, setting on a languid yet gloriously serene pace. He presses his forehead against Ben’s, breathing in the air Ben is exhaling, in that moment they are one and the same person, moving in perfect unison. Ben’s limbs turn into a numb for a moment. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way, he feels so full, full of love, full of Martin. They’re moving so slow for a while that Ben can completely savour each moment and store it in his mind, a reminiscent he’s going to cherish forever. He didn’t even notice but Martin has freed his arms from underneath him and took both Ben’s hands, holding them tenderly, intertwining their fingers above Ben’s head. It’s not a one-time thing they’d forget about the next morning, they’re making love in that moment, an act they’re going to remember until their memory serves.

They spend a couple of minutes moving in such a blissful pace until Martin picks up the speed again. His testicles are tightening as well as Ben’s muscles around his cock, it’s going to take only a couple of more thrusts, Martin estimates. Ben’s hands are suddenly around his arse, trembling but squeezing hard, pulling him closer, urging him to bury his cock as deep as possible. The moment Martin brushes his prostate one more time, Ben howls at the top of his lungs, his body quivering with pleasure as he comes in thick warm spurts, wetting the small space between their bellies.

“Christ, Ben,“ Martin fucks Ben fast through his own orgasm, releasing into his body and the condom after a couple of more seconds of frantic thrusts and awkward, messy kisses. He has never before experienced such a long lasting and gratifying climax, it’s like he was simultaneously flying high and falling, for a few brief seconds he saw nothing but white noise and heard merely his heart hammering in his ears. It seems to last forever, wave after wave of delightful pleasure, heat pooling low in his belly before the world stops turning and silence descends into the room.

Martin collapses onto Ben in the aftermath, breathing heavily but still being able to gather enough strength to laugh against his lips.

“Jesus, that was-that was bloody brilliant,“ Ben breathes out. “I-I’ve never-God, it was perfect, what was  _that_?“

“ _That_ , Ben, was seven years of unresolved sexual tension,“ Martin chuckles, pecking Ben’s cheek. He pulls out of him, carefully, so he doesn’t spill, he rolls down the condom and rushes to throw it into the bin. He returns with a couple of tissues, gently wiping the come off Ben’s pale abdomen.

Ben can’t dart his gaze away from him, nor can he stop smiling like a smitten fool. It’s a tired, but content smile that only grows wider once Martin sinks into the bed again and wraps his arms around Ben, fondly kissing the temple of his head. Ben looks positively dishevelled but it’s a priceless sight, one Martin wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Can I say it already?“ Ben asks sheepishly, snuggling as close to Martin as possible, nuzzling against his warm body.

“Say what?“ Martin frowns, combing a lock of curls off Ben’s forehead.

“That I love you,“ Ben smiles softly. Martin stares at him for a moment, in a mild disbelief but then he grins so brightly as if he was the sun itself and kisses Ben, kisses him so lovingly that Ben sobs in response.

“I love you too, Ben, in case it wasn’t obvious.“ Those simple words, whispered, are trapped in between their lips, neither of them closes the gap this time. Martin caresses Ben’s cheek instead, keen smile never disappearing from his lips.

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, Ben. I don’t expect we’re about come out just yet. We can take as much time as you need, okay?“

“Don’t you mind?“

“Oh, of course not. We can attend Comic Con without holding hands,“ he giggles. “But I do have to admit… it’s going to be difficult to resist the urge.“

Ben bumps his nose against Martin’s. “I am sorry… sweetheart. I was wrong. I can’t believe I’ve almost ruined this opportunity just because I am such a coward. I promise you that-“

“Shh, hush now, Ben,“ Martin mumbles, kissing him chastely. Neither of them utters another word that night. Embraced in each other’s arms, face to face, the sound of their hearts beating in harmony lulls them both to sleep.


End file.
